Monday, April 30, 2012
It was not even a month ago that we found the tumor on Emmitt's forehead, but it feels like such a long journey as I've watched my precious companion disappear a little more from me each day.
The hardest part of his getting sick was watching his incrediby predictable routine disappear as well.
No more meowing at us from the bottom of the stairs on a Saturday morning at 630am because he was afraid we'd overslept.
No more following us into the bathroom every time one of us needed to go because he was thirsty and demanded that he be lifted up to drink from the sink.
No more glancing over at "his" window in the kitchen to see that he was suddenly sitting there, so perfectly, as if saying to us, "I am sitting here with perfect posture, like a real gentleman, waiting for you people to notice and give me one of those awesome cat treats that we import from America".
No more nearly stepping on him because he magically appeared at the fridge when we opened it because he was certain our opening it meant his getting a piece of that thinly sliced ham he loved so much.
No more hollering "it's bedtime" to him from upstairs once the three of us were in bed and then listening for the thunder of his footsteps as he bolted up there to us as he would always spend the first moments of bedtime with us before he headed back downstairs to do whatever he did while we slept.
And no more standing at the back door on one of those Danish summer nights when the sun is still up after 10, hollering, "Emmittt, it's time to come in!!" And there he came... Scaling the fence from the neighbor's yard, running toward us like a lion running across the savanna.
After Emmitt's diagnosis we struggled with what course of treatment to follow; what treatment was best for him. And I'm so thankful for those friends (who had been in these shoes before) who assured me that Emmitt would let me know what was the right thing to do and that Emmitt would let me know when it was time to let him go. For the last seven nights, as he slept in my arms, I prayed that when it was time, he would just quietly pass in the night....in fact I would tell him each night that it was ok...that he could stop fighting now.
But on Saturday morning I realized that, as the mom, this was a decision I had to make.
I am the one who brought him home that day in February 1998 and it's my responsibility to let him go now.
He's been with me exactly 1/3 of my life....
And although I cannot imagine my days without him, I am so thankful for the years that he was a part of my life and a part of our family.
We love you, Emmittt.
And I thank you for all the joy you've brought us the last fourteen years. You can rest in peace, knowing how much you blessed our lives.